


sea town

by dolcette



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hotel Sex, M/M, POV First Person, Romance, Travel, Yuri POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolcette/pseuds/dolcette
Summary: On your bike, we found the sea town.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am in love with their love and so I wrote this completely on a whim at 2AM. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, warning for a brief mention of drowning. (Not for either of them, don't worry. I am not about that life. Happy Otabek and Yuri only!)
> 
> Edit for one more thing: I'm absolutely thrilled to announce that there's now a [German translation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9501095) of this fic, thanks to the wonderful and very hardworking [sprosslee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sprosslee/pseuds/sprosslee)! I couldn't be happier, more proud, or more thankful. For anybody more comfortable reading in German, please enjoy if you decide to check it out!
> 
> Edit for yet another thing: The lovely [onotherflights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onotherflights/pseuds/onotherflights) made a gorgeous [ficboard and fanmix](http://onotherflights.tumblr.com/post/162195041242/sea-town-by-dolcette-fanmix-by-onotherflights-i)! No words for how thrilled I am. Please do check it out!

On your bike, we found the sea town. It was the season for it - we were miserably hot in our greys and blacks, hoods and sleeves, but I don't remember especially regretting it. The recognition we were sometimes met with seemed blissfully absent here, with throngs of tourists set on their ways to vendors that sold drinks in so many colors. They didn't care for us; they drank and ate and shook the sand from their feet. I didn't mind it. Neither did you. You held my hand, and nobody noticed.

On your bike, we let some towns go, passing through them easily without demand or wonder. The sea town was different. We stayed. The hotel was old and unlike what you or I were used to. The skating season put us up in luxury, but not the sea town. We brought ourselves, and the hotel met us in the middle with a Bible at the nightstand and sheets on the bed.

"Kinda shitty, isn't it?" I asked you.

"Is it?" you asked me. "You're here. I have what I need."

I tried to understand how you could say stuff like that - honesty moved through you like water. Words just came out of you unfettered, undecorated as the room around us, but never once did you verge upon thoughtlessness. Never abrasive, never unkind, and utterly mine. Outside, I would've been scarlet for you. In there, I just kissed you. You kissed me, too.

When we left the room and then the lobby, I could hear music. The girl at the front desk probably could've told us where it was coming from, had she not been on the phone - "an old-ass phone", I remarked to you, one so beaten up it looked ready to die cradled at her pale white shoulder. We followed the music ourselves, but we never did find the source.

Instead, we found a shopping district. The shops were small but cobbled together in a desperate huddle that made the sky seem further away. Every one seemed filled to its brim with souvenirs: wind chimes, magnets, mugs, pendants, dolls, lighters and keychains and bracelets and all manner of shit we didn't need. You suggested getting something for Yuuri and Victor. I scoffed, and the shopkeep looked sour.

At the furthest corner was a convenience store. "Snacks," I told you, and you nodded. We went in and grabbed whatever looked decent. I found a box of animal crackers, but I couldn't figure out what the animal on the packaging was supposed to be.

I held it up to you, pointed at it. "The hell is this?"

"Animal crackers?"

"No, the animal."

You paused. You really thought about it. "A short-tailed sheep?"

I didn't know what the difference was between a short-tailed sheep and a regular sheep, or why anyone would make the distinction when sheep don't have long tails in the first place, so I shrugged and threw it in the basket. Short-tailed or otherwise, I was going to eat it. A box of condoms eventually joined the sheep and the juice boxes and the chips. We rang it all up without incident.

* * *

There was a sunset outside, throwing pink-orange light all over our room when we got back. I tossed our things at the bedside table and drew apart the old blue curtains to try and take a picture. I had to crop out a sign for a place across the street: _Skinny Mike's Cold Delights_. You put your arms around me, set your face against my hair.

"The WiFi here sucks," I complained.

"Do you not like it?" You asked. You weren't hurt. You just wanted to know.

With no idea why, the question flustered me. I pocketed my phone - missing the right place in my jeans the first time, succeeding the second, freeing my hands - and turned around in the circle of your arms.

"You're here," I muttered. I was definitely scarlet for you - I felt your smile in our kiss.

* * *

I slept like something dead that night, but I remembered my dreams in the morning. I told you about them while you brushed your teeth.

"We were at my grandpa's place, but it wasn't my grandpa's place," I explained. "The Pig was there too. He kept asking me where his fucking hair brush was. He seriously wouldn't stop, like the world was gonna end if he didn't find it."

You spit and rinsed the froth from your mouth. "Did you tell him?"

"Why the hell would I know?" As soon as I said it, I realized: you're definitely the only person in the world who would care this much about a dream I had. Not even the girls who followed me across borders would ask me to elaborate on shit that never happened. I was sure of that.

"Wonder if he found it," you mused. I didn't answer. My realization had made my chest ache for how much I loved you - you didn't know it and I wasn't going to say so, but you had a way of doing this, turning moments from stupid to meaningful just by being yourself. I wanted to jump from the window.

Later, we went down to the beach. Our visit was short-lived: box jellyfish had apparently been sighted, and we didn't have swimsuits besides. I didn't actually know what a box jellyfish looked like or why they might be a big deal, but the bright yellow warning signs made the whole thing seem pretty dire. A family with innertubes looked disappointed nearby. We made for the harbor.

I didn't know it until then, but apparently a small island sat off the coast from the sea town. A ferry brought people to and from the little place. We ended up on that same ferry. The sky was too grey for a day in the summer.

"A pair of twins fell off this boat once," said a lady beside me. "Just five years old. They went right overboard." I had no idea who she was talking to. She had a scar on her chin that stood out over the lines and age spots across her face. It commanded a certain attention.

I found your hand with mine. If what she was saying was true, I didn't really want to hear about it. You kissed the side of my head, just above my ear. We weren't usually so affectionate in public - our behavior seemed as much a part of the sea town as the shopping district or _Skinny Mike's Whatever Whatever_. Nobody bothered us. Did we bother them?

The island was fucking boring. It was almost pointless in its tininess, and it stank of seaweed. My shoes must have taken half the beach's sand with them by the time we were back on the ferry. But what was truly ridiculous was how much I enjoyed it - I couldn't hate it with you at my side. You were close to me and handsome even under the flat light of the overcast day. You made my heart content. In our world, I was the Russian Punk. I was rough around the edges and everyone knew it. At the sea town, you smoothed me out so easily - like driftwood, like beach glass.

* * *

Back at our room, you put your hands on me. The sun had long since gone down. The only thing we had on was the dim doorway light, nearly useless despite its proximity, given how small the room was. It was fine. We had no need for illumination - you knew my body, and I knew yours.

If there were people in the rooms at either side of ours, I didn't hear them, but for some reason I had the impression of this place bearing thin walls. Distantly I wondered if they could hear what we were doing - the creak of the mattress, the way we breathed. You fucked into me and I clutched at any part of you I could reach. I felt your shoulders, the shorter part of your hair, the musculature of your back.

"Beka," I murmured.

I remembered inexplicably the exchange we had that morning - my dream, and the way you'd reacted. You never let me hurt when we had sex, but my heart was sore anyway under the enormity of my own fortune. You loved me. You remembered me for years, sought me out in Barcelona, made a friend of me, then a lover.

On your bike, you brought me over the world - you brought me here, to the sea town.

You brought me over the brink, too. I spent myself with you inside me. I couldn't breathe.

"Beka," I said again. You tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin, where it joined the empty box of animal crackers. Then you turned to me, listening. Always listening.

"Come inside next time."

* * *

We never reached a verbal agreement of when we'd leave the sea town. Which isn't to say we argued - we never talked about it. We simply knew when the last day was. We got on your bike and left it behind - the tourists, the wind chimes, the short-tailed sheep and poisonous jellyfish.

Some of it came with us. There was still sand in my shoes, and when I held onto you from behind, I could smell salt on your jacket. We had pictures, memories. I felt mostly the same, but the sea town had left its color on me. Under the bike's rumble was the sound of oceanwater. I wondered if it'd always be like that.

"Come again soon," the woman at the front desk had told us.

We would. I don't know what made me so sure, but I knew it like any truth. We'd pass through some towns, let them go like sand through our fingers - but we'd return to the sea town someday. We'd hold hands again so easily. We'd kiss and have sex in a cramped room much the same. We'd come back soon, and we'd find where that music had come from, loving each other just as much as the last time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Die Stadt am Meer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9501095) by [sprosslee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprosslee/pseuds/sprosslee)




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